


For the Sun of Your Love

by matan4il



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 05:33:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16612859
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matan4il/pseuds/matan4il
Summary: Warmth.Raindrops knock against the window, not too loud, but persistent. It's cold outside as the world is being drenched by the year's first heavy rain, the one all farmers wait for and dread alike, but Aaron doesn't feel any of it.For Aaron Week's "home" day.





	For the Sun of Your Love

**Author's Note:**

  * For [7amlecturerambles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/7amlecturerambles/gifts).



> This is dedicated to Emma, a belated birthday gift. Emma wanted something soft and fluffy, such as a lay in in bed on a Saturday morning. It connected in my head with the theme of "home", so here we are. I hope you like it, darling, and that all of your wishes will always come true, you lovely soul! xoxox
> 
> And with thanks to my beta reader, Jo! xox

Warmth.

Raindrops knock against the window, not too loud, but persistent. It's cold outside as the world is being drenched by the year's first heavy rain, the one all farmers wait for and dread alike, but Aaron doesn't feel any of it.

Warmth. He used to dream of it, but the dreams were lacking. The memories of what one used to have before one had turned eight years old fade surprisingly fast and what remains is but a recollection of them. Like watching a scene through a gradually increasing number of colored cellophane layers, the images constantly become blurrier until what's left is mostly an outline of what one believes they had seen earlier on the other side of the plastic. 

He was also lacking it when he was on the streets. He wasn't ever quite homeless, not in the regular sense of the word. Most would think he was at his lowest when he would spend the night sleeping on dirty pieces of paper and cardboard, next to a dumpster, running away from one parent or the other, trying to outrun himself. What a smartass teenager he was when he did, confident he's tougher than he actually was. But then, in his mind, there was no threat the streets could pose to him. What could anyone found there possibly do to him that was worse than what had happened to him behind closed doors? Walls and a roof do not make a home and he knew that better than many of the people he has run into. If one spends long enough without one, one doesn't even know anymore what the word means. Only what it doesn't. If Aaron lets himself, he can still remember the sense of gradually freezing and how it was seeping into his bones, impossible to escape.

 _Warmth_. The way the term plays out in his mind is lazy, drawn out by virtue of how much he doesn't feel like moving. He's cuddling on Robert's chest, his ear against pale skin and the pace of his husband's heartbeat is rather idle too. Aaron loves listening to it. He has ever since he had first kissed the new scar on Robert's chest, far too close to the heart. It's so different than his own, but both men's scars are reminders of where they had started and how far they have come. Aaron can still see it, the spot where Robert fell. The night was chilly and damp, Chas was stood by, half out of her mind with horror. She was the only thing keeping Aaron from going insane too at the sight of Robert, unconscious, splayed out on the unfeeling asphalt with a bullet lodged in his body, meant to shut every system down. The collapsed image of the man Aaron loved, still, in spite of himself. A connection as persistent as the numbingly cold oxygen that was lapping at his lungs that night. He didn't beg for Robert to live. Not with words, anyway.

The man he loved heard him all the same, heard Aaron's real cry hidden underneath hurtful words uttered in a grim hospital room, and he lived. The rain against the windowpane brings back the past, but it's mainly as visuals. Aaron remembers the cold, but he doesn't feel it. He loves this lazy, late Saturday morning that they get to spend in bed together, warmth spreading throughout him, brightening every hidden corner inside of Aaron with the promise it entails. Fills him from the inside out and envelops him in Robert's tight embrace. Even when still asleep, his husband holds on to him, allowing him to let go and not have to carry all of his weight. 

Aaron kisses a small patch of skin right above Robert's left nipple, ever so close to the fair, fine hairs that surround the sensitive spot. If he'll do that a few more times, he knows he'll wake his husband up. He considers it. They'd booked the fanciest room in this bed and breakfast, complete with its own fireplace, and at some point one of them will have to go take care of the wooden logs required by the modest flames, but Aaron isn't bothered. That's not the real source of heat in there. And the room service they'll order for breakfast can wait as well. But he enjoys toying a little with Robert's body before his husband will wake up. It's a part of the wonder that he got to discover and revel in when it comes to their life together. That Robert's his to tease and play with as he pleases, just as surely as Aaron's body is also no longer his alone. 

Aaron has not dreamt about warmth for quite a while now. His kisses become more insistent and as his husband begins to stir beneath him, gorgeous eyes fluttering open to gaze at him with surprise and lust and love, he thinks he may never dream of it again. Figures he doesn't need to anymore. They're not in their own house, but wherever he is with Robert, after years of thinking he will never have one, Aaron is always home.

**Author's Note:**

> For the sun of your love keeps me warm.


End file.
